The Stripper Train
It was a train like no other.
Only rich people or lottery winners could afford tickets.
But I found a way to get aboard without paying.
In fact, they paid me.
I was hired to write a positive, upbeat story about the stripper train.
The train was the brainchild of an XXX-Rated porno entrepreneur.
He wanted to create a “moving experience” where bored rich people could explore all the good things that XXX-Rated activities could do for them — putting some naughty excitement into their lives.
When I got on the train things were already in full swing.
Each compartment in the 32-car train offered new sexual thrills.
Beautiful strippers and “hostesses” swayed up and down the full-length of the train to make sure no one was bored or needed a little touchy feely.
There was a full champagne bar with pretty, semi-clad servers bringing flutes of expensive champagne or cocktails to make sure no one was ever thirsty.
On one car, masseuses were constantly busy massaging whatever needed their special skill.
High class prostitutes (who called themselves “Joy Girls”) and dominatrixes (who called themselves “Pain Maidens”) were ready, willing, and able to ply their trade.
I went from car to car as unobtrusively as I could, jotting down notes for the article. It would be published in the best XXX-Rated magazines and websites, as well as in promotional company literature.
They were paying me a lot of money to write an enticing piece that would garner even more clients for this and other Stripper Trains. A gay-themed Stripper Train was also in the planning stages.
There was a doctor on board and his medical staff for any emergencies. If a rich geezer suddenly had heart palpitations, the medical staff was ready.
Free bowls of Viagra were prominently located in every car.
I was surprised at how much I liked this whole assignment.
It was a voyeur’s dream come true.
I was almost finished with my notes and survey of the train.
As I walked into the last car, I spotted her… My wife!
She was on the stage at the end of the car, stripping like there was no tomorrow.
Holy shit!
I thought she was visiting her mother in Topeka.
But no… here she was moving and grooving, bumping and grinding to the song “I just want to have fun.”
She saw me staring, open-mouthed at her, then smiled her wicked smile as she kept on jiving.
When her set was over, she got a standing ovation and was showered with hundred-dollar bills.
A staff member picked up the bills for her.
Then she disappeared behind a small dressing area.
She came out fully dressed like the businesswoman she was.
We looked at each other and embraced.
“Take me home, big boy.”
When we got home, she did an encore performance.”
Later, I wrote the article.
She even proofread it for me.
We decided to do it again.
